Fourteen

Stepping into the Hall of Mirrors is like walking into a living kaleidoscope. Light floods the room, refracted by hundreds of crystal-framed mirrors that throw clouds of rainbow-stained light like I’m in a Color Run. The mirrors are beautiful but unforgiving. Each of my multiple reflections practically shouts about the unwashed, un-makeuped, uncombed state of my disheveled appearance next to Marion’s stunning posture, shining curls, and the elegance and poise that practically beam from her pores.

We’re wearing similar dresses with high empire waists and flowing silk skirts. Marion’s delicate lavender enhances her silky brown skin, while mine casts a slight green glow against my pale white arms and looks like I was caught up in a turquoise wave that I haven’t quite been able to fight my way out of. I smooth down the square neckline that’s doing absolutely nothing for my barely there boobs and try to comb my fingers through my tousled hair.

I bite my lower lip and scan my reflection in the mirror, trying not to pick apart every inch of my appearance in the process. Surely I can give myself a break for looking like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed when I, in fact, woke up in someone else’s bed entirely.

This is what people mean when they say rode hard and put away wet .

Catching my rueful look in one of my countless reflections, Marion offers a gentle smile. “I must say, you look much better than I would if Highgate and I had an encounter with dangerous highwaymen,” she says as we move through the bands of color that dapple the hall.

I meet her gaze in the mirror, her reflection somehow even more composed and graceful than she is in person.

“McDougall is not one to keep secrets,” she adds with a wry tilt of her lips. “But don’t worry, we’ll have you polished and perfect before the feast. After I’m done, Lord Ashwood won’t be able to keep his hands off you. Not that he seems to show much restraint on that front.”

“Ashwood and I are here for business, not pleasure.” I turn away from the image of my tomato-red cheeks and clasp my hands in front of me as we near the middle of the shimmering corridor. “I’ll have to make sure he gets the memo.”

“Hannah,” Marion continues, her tone shifting as she once again links her arm through mine and draws us to a stop in the center of the hall. “Now that we’re closer, I do have a question for you.” Her brow furrows slightly. “Your accent is… unusual . I assume both by that and your way with phrases that there are considerable differences between this kingdom and yours. But I would never forgive myself if you were unwell, and I didn’t ask how you’re feeling after your encounter on the road.”

“Oh.” My mind scrambles for the right response, not at all wanting to admit that Kane may have had a point in schooling me about my speech. “Well, it has been a challenging day.” I swallow and let the understatement hang between us in hopes of not digging myself a hole too deep to get out of.

After all, no matter how much I want to hope my secrets will be safe with Marion, I can’t trust her. I can’t trust anyone.

“I know just the thing to restore your spirits,” she promises, squeezing my arm. “But first, we must finish our tour. We’ve almost made it to the Hall of Crystal Wings you’ve been so eager to see.”

And, hopefully, to correcting the mistake the Tower made and getting the Empress to take me back home. Maybe there’s even a chance that, before I leave, Kane will fill me in on the details and I’ll find out exactly what his plans are.

I’d really love it if he’d fill me in.

My eyes widen with the sudden flash of heat the double entendre sends through my limbs. I hide the desperate need pulsing beneath my skin behind a cough as I let Marion lead me away from the Hall of Mirrors and toward a set of tall glass doors.

She pushes them open, and a sweet, floral-scented breeze twirls through my hair.

The gardens spread out before us in a beautiful mesh of flower beds and manicured lawns. It’s alive with the vibrant green of new leaves, purple-tipped lavender bushes, cream-colored lilies, and deep-red tulips fringed in blazing orange that dance like flames in the gentle gusts. I lean down and glide my fingers along the bright yellow daffodil blooms that line the pathway with bursts of sunshine.

“This is my favorite place within the palace,” Marion says, her gaze sweeping over the clusters of pastel blue and purple hydrangea blooms, their pom-pom heads bobbing in the breeze. “Not even the rain can keep me away.”

“I would also stand out in the rain if it meant being surrounded by this.”

Hannah, you’ve stood outside Chad’s apartment in a blizzard in two feet of snow waiting for him to find the right tie clip.

I breathe in the heady scents of lilac, jasmine, and lavender as I follow Marion down a winding path, the cobblestones clicking softly under our feet. We round a large marble fountain shaped like a pentacle. Water cascades from the points of the star, the soothing sound mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chatter of birds. Around the fountain, wood and wrought iron benches offer a place to sit and absorb the relaxation that comes from being in some place so tranquil and beautiful.

In the distance, the Tower rises from the landscape like a dream. It’s separate from the palace, standing tall and proud against the horizon, yet it feels more worthy of devotion, more important than this seat of power ever could.

It has its own magick. I know that from what Kane has told me about its ability to send the tarot to seek out help from other worlds, but I can also sense it, even from here.

I think I actually like Towerfall. The uninvited thought pops into my head.

Yes, this place is gorgeous and fancy and absolutely surreal, but I remind myself I can’t stay. I need to go home. I mean, people don’t just stay on vacation. Not that this is a vacation. Regardless, the point is valid. This isn’t my world.

There is also the fact I was stabbed for being a “witch.” If anyone finds out I’m not actually Lady Ashwood, they’ll do more than just bury a knife in my side. I have zero marketable ye-olden-times skills and wouldn’t know the first thing about surviving without the internet. Plus, there was a lot of truth to not wanting to squish out six kids, and I have yet to see a pharmacy or doctor’s office where I can get my IUD replaced or pick up antibiotics.

Before we stop and I ignore my very realistic concerns and allow myself to feel even more like this is someplace I want to be—or worse, someplace I could belong—I push past the benches and make my way toward the other end of the palace that embraces the far side of the gardens.

The Hall of Crystal Wings is in that arm of the palace, and we’re so close to it—to the marker I can use to find the tarot card and my way back home. My steps quicken, and the sound of rushing water fades into the distance as we weave through rows of colorful blooms into the heart of the garden.

I slow to a stop, my gaze trailing up the vines climbing along the high walls of a maze. The verdant tendrils are punctuated by bursts of pink jasmine flowers, their scent spilling into the garden’s warm air. Sunlight filters through the leaves, painting the stone entryway with ripples of light and shadow. My imagination takes over, and I picture slipping into the hidden alcoves of the maze’s lush foliage, Kane’s arms around me, his mouth on mine.

“Wishing you could escape your wifely political duties in favor of getting lost in the maze?” Marion glances at me, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“Just thinking…” I press my hand over my beating heart, afraid it will betray my secrets.

“We can take a moment, go back and sit awhile before we make our way into the Hall of Crystal Wings.”

“No!” My shout startles us both, and I clear my throat. “I mean, we’re so close. We might as well finish up.”

Gaze fixed on the glass doors leading into the other wing of the palace, my stomach flips, and I have to force my legs to take languid, easy strides and not break out into a run. The possibility of returning to my world, of reclaiming my life, or what’s left of it, is on the other side of those doors.

I make myself wait for Marion to pull them open, revealing a corridor like the others we’ve explored, one that stretches deep into the palace. Its high ceilings and polished floors glisten under the soft glow of chandeliers, the faint echo of our footsteps sounding down its length as Marion ushers me forward.

Worry gnaws at me, its sharp teeth piercing the placid calm I’m struggling to adopt from Marion and make my own.

What if you can’t find the room or your purse or the card? What if you get stuck here forever? What if they find out your secrets and burn you at the stake?

I squeeze my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms as I force down my doubts and focus instead on the shimmering turquoise and red spilling from the Hall of Crystal Wings.

“Here we are.” Marion’s gesture takes in the glistening dragonflies lining the walls, their iridescent wings catching the light and refracting it in dazzling patterns. “Each dragonfly was painstakingly crafted by artisans over several months. The scales along their wings were individually carved and polished and inspected by the queen herself before being added to the bodies.”

It’s impressive, but I don’t care about the craftsmanship or the beauty. My gaze sweeps the hall, searching for a sign, a clue, anything that might lead me back to the room I arrived in and the life I left behind.

“Are there any bedrooms near this hall?” I ask.

“Yes, but yours and Ashwood’s is much grander.”

A clock sounds in the distance, tolling like a church bell, and I flinch with each strike of the gong. The sound reverberates through the grand corridor and off the high ceilings and ornate walls.

Marion turns to me, her eyes wide, urgency lifting her thick brows. “We must get you back to your rooms to prepare. There’s not much time before the feast.”

She grabs my hand, but I resist, planting my feet firmly on the polished marble floor. “Wait, Marion. There’s something I need to see first.”

“Hannah, please.” She tugs gently. “We don’t have time. You must get ready. I must get ready.”

“Just a few more minutes. There’s something important I need to find.” I stand on my tiptoes and squint like it’ll help me see around the twists and turns of the palace halls and into the bedroom where my purse should be.

“There will be time for that later. Right now, we must hurry.”

“But you don’t understand,” I protest, my voice rising with desperation. “We’ve made it all this way, and this could be my only chance to find it.”

Marion stops, her eyes narrowing. “Find what?”

“I just…” I shake my head. I can’t explain the real reason. I don’t know what she’d do if she found out I’m from another world and that I’m so close to my one chance to get back home. “I have a feeling. Please, Marion, just a little more time.”

She studies me for a moment and offers a small soft smile. “Your feeling can wait. Your responsibilities cannot.”

She tightens her grip on my hand and gently pulls, but I don’t budge. “Marion, please. If you could just—”

“Hannah, you are new to Pentacles, and while Cups may have its own set of expectations in which you are well-versed, I am the expert on Pentacles’s decorum and its particular rules. Your attendance at the feast is important to the negotiations you and Ashwood have come all this way to conduct. If you are late or arrive with a stitch out of place, it will be seen as blatant disrespect. The feast is important, and we must both be there on time.”

“I understand, but this is important too.”

“Then I promise we can explore more at a later date. But for now, we must get you back to your rooms.”

There’s sincerity in her eyes, genuine concern, and I know she’s not going to budge. With a heavy sigh, I nod. “Fine. After the feast, then.”

“After the feast,” she agrees, then pulls me forward.

I feel like Cinderella, dashing down wide hallways and up grand staircases to my room before the clock strikes twelve and my carriage turns back into a pumpkin.

We burst into my room, the door swinging shut behind us. Inside is quiet and empty, the air crisp and chilly in Kane’s absence.

“I thought Ashwood would be here,” I say more to myself than to Marion.

“I’m sure he’s with Highgate discussing their schedules and agendas for the talks with the king,” she says, rushing to the side of the bed to tug on the bellpull. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if our husbands also became friends? Perhaps we could holiday at each other’s country estates.”

I force a smile, trying to match Marion’s enthusiasm as she continues on about parties in the countryside, but it’s impossible when my problems are so different from hers. My mind is elsewhere, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed, my pulse pounding in my ears.

“What if I never make it back?” I mutter, the thought twisting my stomach into knots.

“Don’t worry, Hannah,” Marion says, settling onto the maroon-and-gold settee near the foot of the bed. “If we must, we’ll summon an army to prepare you in time for the feast.”

I nod, trying to hold back the sudden rush of tears that threatens to spill over.

If only that were my real concern.